


Lost In Translation

by that_RedRedWhite



Series: Dips to go with my Chips [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But can be read alone, Epic Friendship, Gen, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It Was So Much Fun, M/M, Swearing, The Author Barely Speaks English, The Author Doesn't Speak French, same universe as Chips To Cash In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_RedRedWhite/pseuds/that_RedRedWhite
Summary: "Alexandre, mon petit lion, but sometimes you can be so smart, and yet so stupid! The things that come out of your mouth, you... Assbrain!”Hercules snorts and raises a brow, whispering, “Assbrain?”John only laughs harder, sinking down in his chair.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & John Laurens & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette & Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Dips to go with my Chips [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040289
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Lost In Translation

**Author's Note:**

> A scene that belongs to the same universe as my fic Chips To Cash In and explains where Alexander's 'Assbrain' title came from XD
> 
> The only detail you need to know if you haven't read CTCI is that Alex is from the Dom Republic. Other than that, Enjoy! :D

A college student’s budget is really not much to go on, in terms of grocery shopping. Vegetables are a rarity, red meat even more so. But you scrape together what you can and you make it work. Especially for a guy his size, Hercules always tries to fit protein into his diet in any creative way he can. 

Today’s lunch is a packet of instant noodles, cooked as if they were pasta, with a makeshift sauce of some leftover sour cream from Taco Tuesday’s choice of takeaway that smelled legit enough to throw into the mix and a can of tuna he drained from its oil.

All things considered, he could have done worse. 

They are cooking at John and Alexander’s apartment, a place that has become even more their home than Hercules feels his dorm is. John is already sitting by the low table in the middle of the one-and-a-half-rooms apartment, glaring at his own traditional cup of instant noodles, willing it to cook faster. 

Not that he couldn’t afford to buy fancier food, but John just likes to eat junk.

Lafayette is standing to Hercules’s left, pulling out a shaker of parmesan cheese from his own shopping bag and shoving it towards him across the counter. The Frenchman boops the shaker repeatedly, making it itch it’s way to him until it almost topples over. 

Instincts compelling him to move, Hercules catches the tilting container and rights it. 

“A-ha!” Lafayette shouts as if winning some kind of secret bet. “You touch, you use!”

Hercules throws his head back and laughs. He straightens and shakes his head, twisting the cap and getting at the plastic seal. “You know you don’t have to trick me into accepting food from you, man.” 

Lef huffs dramatically, as if offended. “Ah, _mon Cher_ , but then you refuse to tell me when you need things.”

“Six different types of cheese is not something that I _need_ , Laf,” Hercules says with a grin, bumping his friend’s shoulder with his own. 

That being said, he still pours nearly a third of the small container over his bowl of fusion-kitchen noodles. Lafayette gives him a bemused look, communicating his ‘you were saying?’ with an excessive amount of blinking. Hercules feigns innocence and hastily moves to sit down next to John, Lafayette quickly joining across the table, turkey sandwich in hand. 

“You know, _mon amour_ , I do think it is ready by now, _non?_ ” Lafayette comments and scrunches his nose up at the smell coming from the other’s ramen cup, peeling the cling wrap from his own lunch. 

John scoffs, then wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, but you see, the secret is in letting it stew properly!” He laughs at Lafayette’s fake gag. “Also,” John adds with a smile, “I needed to wait for Herc to finish cooking. Those who eat alone die alone, and all that.”

Hercules puts a hand on his chest, whipping away a fake tear with his other hand as he says, “Ah, a man after my own heart.” 

They’ve each barely taken a few bites out of their meals when the front door flies open and bangs against the wall, Alexander running through it looking like a deranged swagman. Flyaway hairs are sticking out from his low ponytail in every which direction, huffing and heaving as he rushes to drop the contents in his arms -his laptop carrier bag and several borrowed books- onto the table. 

Already used to the whirlwind that is Alexander Hamilton, both Hercules and John have already lifted their dishes in one hand, saving their food from spilling everywhere when the table rattles, and continue to eat, unphased, with the other. 

Lafayette grumbles something in French as Alexander passes behind him and rushed to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and rummaging within it in search of his rare intake of sustenance that isn’t black coffee. 

Deeming that the worst of the storm has passed, Hercules gently places his bowl back on the table and swallows his mouthful of pasta. John opts to keep his cup in hand, knowing from past experience that Hurricane Alexander has yet to finish rattling the house, and that his cup of swishing hot soup is in far more danger than Hercules’s pasta. 

“Dude,” Hercules asks hesitantly, watching Alexander as the man shoves what looks like every single spread they have into a single bun, “Are you okay? Do I need to get the fire extinguisher again?”

He gets a snort from both John and Laf, and a string of curses from the direction of the kitchen. Well, at least Alex isn’t stuck in his head hard enough to completely shut off, which is a good sign.

The Dominican man reopens the fridge, throws back in all the spreads he pulled out and starts moving everything within it around again as he talks, now in pursuit of the salami he swears he saw in there to put into his sandwich. “Oh don’t even fucking ask, I fucking dug my own grave with this one.”

“Contrary to the norm?” John mutters. Laf kicks him under the table. Hercules hushes them both as Alexander carries on, oblivious to anything but his own drama. 

“Seabury was babbling absolute _shit_ about Professor Franklin’s latest assignment, so of course, I tell him all the million and one fucking loopholes in his argument, because I mean come on, _Boston_? Anyway, I then, because I am a fucking idiot, went on to insult Franklin’s assignment 'cause listen-” he pulls out the salami and starts battling with the slices, trying to separate them and shove them into his sandwich, ”-The man should really fucking have known better than to give us that piece of static garbage. And guess who is standing right fucking behind me as I close my argument? _Fucking Franklin_. So of course he goes, ‘Oh, I can’t wait to hear the presentation you have for us on the subject for tomorrow’s class, Mr. Hamilton’.” 

Alex closes his sandwich angrily and throws the salami back into the fridge, slamming the door after it. Alex crosses the room and sits down next to Lafayette at the table, tearing a big chunk out of his sandwich to munch on like a feral cat.

The Frenchman shrieks, jumping further away with his chair, and glares at his friend, scandalized when a drop of onion jam/mayo/mustard/ _is that sriracha or pizza sauce??_ lands next to his designer boots.

“So, you told him to go shove it, right?” John asks slurping a noodle so hard it flies up and smacks him on his freckled nose. Hercules has to hold in his laugh so he won’t choke. 

Alexander bangs his hand against the table (‘ah you see? Fucking told you’ John thinks) and Hercules quickly grabs at his bowl when it jumps from the force of it. 

Alex chews faster before swallowing his mouthful to speak. “Of course I fucking didn’t! Because I am a goddamn idiot I said, ‘Oh don’t you worry it’s the best presentation you ever fucking seen!’ So now I’ve got less than a day to create a whole damn lecture from scratch or Franklin will chew me out and my grade for this course is fucking screwed!” 

None of his friends can contain themselves and all three burst into laughter while Alexander bangs his head against the table and groans loudly. 

Lafayette is the first to get back his bearings. “Oh, _Alexandre, mon petit lion_ , but sometimes you can be so smart, and yet so stupid! The things that come out of your mouth, you... assbrain!”

Hercules snorts and raises a brow, whispering, “Assbrain?” 

John only laughs harder and places his now empty cup back on the table, sinking down slightly on his chair.

“Whatever,” Alexander wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and rises from his seat, throwing his bag back over his shoulder, “I don’t have time for this. I’ll see you guys later.” He rounds the table to drop a kiss on John’s lips then leaves quickly to go work on his new self-assigned torture in the library. 

They all watch him go, then Lafayette turns back to the table and shakes his head.

“Assbrain?” Hercules asks again, this time louder. John snorts again and sinks lower.

“ _Oui!_ You know? The way he sometimes has that... that... verbal diarrhea!”

John is now barely staying on his seat, his back the only thing connecting him to it. His voice comes out half choked. “Verbal diarrhea!” 

Hercules is using all his might to not either join John in his disappearing act or get up and just hug Lafayette. Oh man, his face hurts from smiling so hard. “Laf, dude, what exactly is it you’re trying to say?”

Lafayette groans, exasperated, and mutters, “ _Mon Dieu, aide moi, ces Américains ne comprennent rien,_ ” before switching back into English. “The way he has this... horrible release of _stupid_ that comes from his mouth! It is like a complete disconnect from thought to words!”

Hercules blinks several times until he finally gets it. “A brain fart,” he says, voice flat. “You wanted to say he had a brain fart.”

John is somewhere under the table, dying from laughter. He should probably check on him in a bit. Right after he’s done processing how unbelievably adorable all of his friends are.

Laf scrunches up his nose in displeasure. “Now that just sounds stupid.”

Like he said, adorable. 

John manages to recover enough to stick his head back up from under the table. He is leaning his elbows on its surface and lifts up just enough to throw a shit-eating grin in Lafayette’s direction. 

“50 dollars says you can’t make that stick”

“Oh, you are _on._ ”

Hercules shakes his head as he smiles silently to himself. 

Adorable. And also absolutely chaotic.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like this random bit of chaos!  
> As always kudos and comments are the air that I breathe and keep me going!
> 
> Long French bit - "My God, help me, these Americans understand nothing". Or as close as I got it using Google Translate.  
> Laf and John's entire friendship is just them constantly daring each other to do stupid things for money.


End file.
